


Perfect [For Another]

by battoff



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Disabled Character, Disabled Jake Dillinger, F/F, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Chloe Valentine, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Jake Dillinger, Trans Jeremy Heere, Trans Male Character, Unrequited, Unrequited Christine Canigula/Jake Dillinger, Unrequited Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell, theres too many tags for this work hhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battoff/pseuds/battoff
Summary: “Parting is such sweet…”“... Sorrow?”“Whatever!”





	Perfect [For Another]

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta-d by my friend! I’ll link them when they get their ao3 account. But I owe them my life for making sure this made sense and giving me some headcanons for Chloe. In this work Chloe is genderfluid, Miah is a trans woman, and Jake is a trans man. Enjoy comrades.

“Well? How do I look?”

Jake turns around, ready to be snarky and jest only to have the words die in his throat. Standing before him, Christine avoids his gaze as a blush dusts the high points of her cheeks. Her eyes flutter once, twice, focused on the champagne bottle in the corner. A two-piece wedding dress, simple and lacey, fits her so well it’s almost as if it was made for her. Oh, right. Chloe made her it. So, yes. It was. But that’s besides the point.

“You look,” he clears his throat, “you look perfect, Chris. I can’t believe this is your day.”

She giggles. It’s a sound so pleasant to him it settles a weight on his heart. Making her way over to him, she raises her arms to fix his bow tie. “I can’t either. I’m so glad I can revel in it with the people who matter most to me.”

Jake lifts his head to stare at her. Her tan arms aren’t covered by sleeves, pearls studding her ears, a pendant necklace resting against her sternum. Her face, oh, her face is like a moon cake. He told her that once. It made her laugh so hard milk came out her nose. Then he vomited. It was a fun first date.

_‘Not the time,’_ he tells himself.

Mr. Canigula opens the door to tell them that the man of honor needs to get ready to walk down the aisle.

“That’s my cue.”

Before he can turn his wheelchair away Christine kisses his forehead. Her hand immediately goes to wipe away any physical evidence of their shared affection. He swallows around a rock as she gives him an incredibly fond expression.

“Break a leg.”

...

He meets Michael at the entrance. Wordlessly, just as they rehearsed, Michael pushes Jake down the aisle, only separating from him when they reach the rabbi. They watch as Christine follows after with her Appa, Baba, and Maji at her sides. Finally, the piano begins to play as per Christine’s family’s request. Miah, sweet Miah, is led down the aisle by Mr. Heere who looks like he’s seven inches away from busting out the waterworks. He’s thankfully wearing pants and Miah is wearing a wedding dress. It’s satin and pinches her waist in a way that she happily told everyone makes her appear more feminine. The train isn’t long because, even after all these years, she’s still as clumsy as ever. A long veil covers her face. Jake can vaguely make out a bun sitting near the top of her head.

She stands beneath the chuppah with Christine, the rabbi almost immediately asking them to join their hands. They recite some vows that leave everyone giggling and say some traditional prayers. Finally, the two of them make circles around each other before exchanging rings. Christine is practically vibrating as they stomp on the glass, jumping forward to pull Miah into a kiss.

...

Once Mrs. Canigula and Mrs. Heere come out after spending their eighteen minutes in yichud the party is in full swing. The two newlyweds participate in their first dance. A fox trot of all things. A bit over dramatic but what can be expected of a Broadway actress and a former theatre actress? Mr. Heere demands a dance with his daughter. That one is a little more worth laughing at considering neither of them are prepared.

As things settle Jake can’t help but find himself offering his hand to Christine. She takes it and he pulls her into a waltz. It’s one of the few dances he knows and he’s been saving all his spoons for this moment. The party, he means. Not just this one dance.

“How does it feel,” he asks her. It’s only a hushed whisper that feels far too intimate for what they are.

Christine sighs, a face so darling it can be read from miles away the amount of happiness she must feel. “Wonderful.”

“You sound so in love.” And she does. The thought that this might be how he sounds, looks, acts briefly crosses his mind.

“Do I?” He hums, brought back to the present. “I guess it’s because I am. I love her, Miah. I wanna wake up next to her and think, ‘Hey, that wonderful lady is my wife.’”

“She’s lucky to have you. You two are gonna be the best wives ever.”

“Don’t let Michael’s moms hear you.” They laugh together. Christine’s head rests against his chest, shaking with the vibrations. But then the song ends and the moment is broken. She smiles up at him, all dopey and enamored. “I should go.”

“Yeah.” Jake holds her hand for a second longer than he really should. The corner of his lips twitch upwards to combat the frown tugging at his mouth. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

And, in that moment, the world seemed to stop around them. Christine’s gaze goes soft at him, a silent thanks, then they part.   
Jake’s left on the dance floor, watching her like a fool. Someone sidles up next to him. “Wow, you’re really not over her.” Michael leans against his shoulder. “And to think you were her man of honor. Tsk. Tsk.”

He pushes the other away. He needs a drink. “I really don’t need this right now, Mell.”

“Of course, of course. You never do. Because you’re a coward who always comes crawling back.”

They get to the champagne glasses in the hallway.

“Mell, this is not the time.”

“The time for what? The truth? There’s always time for that.” Jake downs the entire glass in a matter of seconds. “Admit it, you still love her.”

There’s a pause as they feel the weight of the situation settle between them. Michael looks smug, exhausted, heartbroken. Then he kisses Jake like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. They both know that’s a lie. Jake breaks it off.

“No—”

“No?”

“No! I’m not doing this anymore. This isn’t about me. It never was. Christine proposed to Miah. Miah got married today. Miah waxed poetry about her wife. Miah has moved on from whatever could’ve been and so has Christine and so could we if you would just let it _go_ —”

“Is there a problem?”

They turn to stare at Chloe. Michael scowls, bitter and lonely. Jake pities him almost as much as he pities himself.

“No. I was just leaving.”

Then there’s just Chloe and Jake.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks,” they say and he’s sure they meant it. “How are you holding up?”

“Uh.” He pauses to feel his joints groan in agony. “I’m already regretting this.”

“Yeah. I thought you would. That’s why I brought these.” They pull out two crutches from underneath the table of champagne. He takes them with gratitude on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

They take a deep breath. “I know it’s hard. You loved her—”

“Chloe please stop. I don’t need this right now—”

“Then when will you? Jake listen. You have been pining for fucking years over this— this— _woman_. And for what? To get your heart stomped on every time she asks you for a favor?” He doesn’t respond. “I know you don’t wanna hear this but it’s the truth. You gotta get over her. It’s gonna be hard, I get that, but I’m gonna be here every step of the way.”

They offer him their hand. He looks between it and their face, a shadow with a halo of LED lights behind them. He takes it and, for once tonight, he feels grounded.

**Author's Note:**

> Previously mentioned friend has also brought to my attention that I write a lot of sad works. Exhibit A: the text above.


End file.
